


Home Grown Sins.

by Koscheyyy



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Blindfolds, Confession, Frottage, Impact Play, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Peter needs absolution, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishments, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Whipping, defrocking, elias will provide it, taking communion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29332158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Koscheyyy/pseuds/Koscheyyy
Summary: “Speak them unto me, boy”Peter swallows, throat suddenly dry as he thinks of his sins.There are numerous. Too many to count as his tongue wets his lip and tears begin to bead, fat and swollen, in the corner of his eyes.“I have sexual desires, Father” Peter croaks, his fists clenching and unclenching in their bonds behind his back “i desire the touch of another man”
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas
Comments: 8
Kudos: 24





	Home Grown Sins.

**Author's Note:**

> In a family where your main goal is to marry spooky singles and provide heirs, Peter is most definitely taught to hate himself and his desires. 
> 
> He seeks to confess his crimes and Elias is more than happy to listen.

Elias has Peter on his knees, breathless and blind as he waits with trembling anticipation of the unknown. 

He had come to Elias a broken man. Scared of his desires and wilted without the touch of another. Elias of course held him, the bulk of this man intimidating as his hands gripped the freshly pressed fabric of Elias's suit. 

They remained like that for a moment, a mere pause as Peter inhaled the siren call of cologne and let his mind wander to those sinful proclivities. Elias smiled a sinister smile, clutching his followers hand and taking him to church.

A gloved finger tilts his head upward in merciful guidance, stilling his shivers and hushing his mind. Upon the other side of his jaw the tip of a leather crop traces his jugular point, laying upon his pulse and giving him a promising kiss of whats to come. 

He swallows hard, waiting for the voice of his merciful leader. Leaning into the hand of god that guides him from the fog of forsaken into the light. Praising the one who will show him divinity in taking communion.

“Are you ready to confess your sins?” Elias pushes a leather bound finger through Peter’s lips, not afraid of the blunt teeth he finds there as he presses down on the transgressors black tongue. 

He can feel Peter try to revolt against the pressure, naturally of course. An unbroken horse never fully accepts the pull of a bit until they have been given the discipline of a whip and a seasoned rider. His finger remains there, slowly sinking further down on his pallet til his mouth is open and chin flush to his chest. 

Elias smiles, controlling himself with a rehearsed breath and removing his hand. 

“Yes, Father” Peter states instantly, head unmoving from its placement. Behind the blindfold his eyes are closed, timid to open them and be blinded by the righteousness about to inflicted upon him by such a blessed teacher. He takes a rehearsed breath to control himself and waits. 

“Speak them unto me, boy”

Peter swallows, throat suddenly dry as he thinks of his sins. 

There are numerous. Too many to count as his tongue wets his lip and tears begin to bead, fat and swollen, in the corner of his eyes. 

“I have sexual desires, Father” Peter croaks, his fists clenching and unclenching in their bonds behind his back “i desire the touch of another man” 

Instantly the whip is upon him, cracking against his left shoulder with such a pain that for a moment Peter doesn't even feel it. That is until his skin reels back from the shock and crackles like lightning across a clouded sky, ready to break with a thunderous rain. 

“Continue” Elias speaks as of he hadnt just struck the man at his feet like a cruel ringmaster. His voice soft and forgiving as the leather upon his knuckles squeak with a familiar tightening upon the crop.

“I” Peter cannot speak for the pain in his shoulder but he is willed, compelled to speak, to confess his crimes to seek shelter from judgement “I have lain with a man” 

Again the whip is not delayed as it slices down across the right shoulder. It marks an impressive red welt across Peter’s skin as his nerves scream for his sins. 

It is no fault but his own. 

“Again” 

“I touch myself” Peter swallows “indecently” 

Instinctively, he flinches though the whip does not find him. He shivers with the delayed anticipation, his breathing slow as he tries to hear the tell tale sound of his divinity’s heels clacking upon the wood- winding back to lash him with justice. 

“And?” Elias asks, patiently. 

“And i...i think of him” 

Elias hits him once. 

“I think of his touch” 

Twice. 

“His taste” 

A third time. 

“His body upon mine, within me and i within him” 

The sound of leather upon skin is countless as Elias rains down the lord’s love and forgiveness upon him. Marking Peter for his mistakes and cleansing him of this insidious desire. 

The moment he stops his breath is laboured and Peter is openly weeping into the satin blindfold. Hunched over and shivering as pain racks him in unforgiving waves as his hands fidget and knees shuffle. A thin sheen of sweat covering him as the whips kiss reddens him in raised welts, marking him of his confession and cleansing him. 

Quietly Elias fixes his own hair with a neat combing of fingers, regaining his resolve and stands to face his lost lamb. 

He watches Peter weep gently, trembling in the basking heat of his salvation. His lost lamb has been delivered unto him and found within the watchers sight, for that he is grateful and for that he is loved.

Tightly, Elias wraps his hand into Peter's hair and pulls his head up to face his saviour. 

“Who is this man that has lead you to temptation?”

Peter can taste blood. 

“You”

The slap was to be expected as Elias strikes Peter across the face with a calculated backhand, reddening Peter’s bristled cheek and wetting the leather glove with tears. Peter is sure to remain very still and furtively silent as he waits for Elias's next commandment. 

Elias regains his composure with a quiet moment. Listening to the erratic thump of his heart as his trousers become all the more restricting against his desires. 

Peter is very much the same in that regard, patient and aching. His cock an angry red, almost purple, as it stands to attention between Peter's legs. Copious amounts of pre-come leak from the flushed tip, weeping for attention much like the transgressor it is attached to. 

“Are you prepared for absolution?” Is all Elias asks as he calmly presses the toe of his onyx stiletto to the base of Peter's groin. There is only a slight pressure there but enough to make Peter wheeze in desperation. Weakly his hips pump upward into the blessed touch of his saviour.

Without Elias he would be lost. Swallowed by the fog and digested, bones and all. Nothing would remain of him but a wisp of mournful regret mixing with the sea foam and drifting with the tide. 

Without Elias he would be no more. 

“Yes” Peter sobs, his hips grinding against the underside of Elias’s shoe. For that is what he is, mere dirt under the feet of his divine preacher, “Yes, Father” 

Instantly the pressure is removed as Elias takes a step back, sweeping back his perfect hair and surveying his sweet reprobate. Breathing in and out, his tongue dry and pulse racing as the almighty guides him to drop the whip. 

It lands on the hardwood floor with a shattering clatter making Peter wince and flex in his bindings. His knees shuffle with anxious anticipation for his absolution as he hears Elias begin to move once again. 

“May almighty God have mercy on you” Elias preaches with a steady breath. The words familiar and rehearsed upon his tongue as he begins to roll up his shirt sleeves. His cock aches with a desperate need, pressing up against his zipper and throbbing for another’s touch. 

As quiet as a church mouse does Elias reach for a silver chalice upon the dresser before swirling its deep red contents around the precious rim. Taking in it’s perfume and eyeing it’s beautiful colour with the precision of a practised vintner. It is a favoured red. A holy red, handpicked grapes lovingly crushed and fermented for 100 years just to bless this misguided malefactor.

Elias will cleanse him. Elias will guide him. Elias will save him.

Slowly he takes a mouthful of the wine, eyes rolling at the blessed sweetness that bathes his pallet, and holds it behind his holy lips. For a moment there is stillness. Quite and at peace as the floorboards settle under Peter's heated weight. 

Gently, Elias then creeps forward, mouth carrying Peter’s communion of the hallowed Watcher until he stands before him and gets to his knees. With inhuman elegance he straddles a man of sin, pressing their bodies together in a mockery of the gardener’s of Eden and embrace.

Peter opens his mouth instinctively, awaiting the offering as Elias puts a gloved hand to his chin and guides their lips together. 

The taste of pure righteousness that pours itself across Peter's tongue is like none he has known. It’s rich essence dribbling down his chin as Elias pushes his tongue inside, desperate to savour such a taste. Wickedness tainting the divine as the pure cleanses the unholy.

A concoction that should not be spilled. 

Hungrily Elias’s fingers try to catch the red rivulets that mark their jaws and jugulars like rabid foxes mad for the scent of blood. Peter allows Elias to feast on his sins, tasting his wrongdoings and sharing communion as their bodies ache for each other. 

Peters cock humps eagerly into the crease of his saviour’s thigh, rubbing against the lining of his pressed suit. Uncaring to the ways he is ruining the fabric as he gives in to the carnal feel of his desired against him again. Elias does not intervene however as his own needs begin to cloud holy judgement, biting against Peter's lips and giving over to the feel of another against him.

“And having forgiven your sins” Elias gasps upon Peter's stumbled jaw as nimble hands make light work of his belt buckle, shucking him of material restriction while rushing to free himself entirely. 

Peter merely gives a guttural moan, throwing his blinded head back as his hellish lover presses against him with a mirrored intensity. The leather of his glove no longer cold and distant but warm and yielding as it grips them both at the root, teasing. The pressure a godsend as Elias begins to relieve them of this cumbersome temptation. 

Their heads bowing together, meeting in the middle with a defeated anguish as they moan with the verbatim of tolling bells. Loud and clear. Peter shifts on his aching knees as Elias speeds up his actions, holding them together as they buck and writhe into such transcendent heat. Their cocks red and swollen with the desperate need to come, leaking pre-come over each other and staining the leather of the glove, tainting the hand of the divine. 

Elias grunts a high whine as his climax stands on the horizon, Peter following close behind as their breathing speeds up in tandem. The gentle teasing of Elias's grip now deliberate and messy as they come close. Their knees red raw upon the floor as they race to completion, desperate for more of this tight heat. Desperate for absolution.

Peter grits his teeth, nostrils flared as he tries to get closer to Elias. Trying to push against his delicious grip and rub on the bliss that is his engorged cock against one so pretty and slim. 

Even though he may not be able to see his lovers prick he knows it well. Thinks of it often on those lonesome nights at sea. Imagining its taste, its touch. How it feels on his tongue, the weight of it slapping his sternum as they make wretched love. The blessed feel of it inside him, sparking him with pleasure no man should possess as he delivers him from temptation. 

It is with these final thoughts does Peter allow his lips to find the white collar tucked neatly at the base of his saviours neck and defrocks him with a triumphant pull. Elias all but screams as his title is stripped from him with such salacious defilement. 

“Lead you to eternal life” Elias cries with a ragged intensity as he reaches his peak, ruining his suit further.

Peter spits the offending item to the side, allowing it to fall away, no longer important to them in their embrace. Elias slumps forward, lips sloppy and grateful upon Peter’s as their teeth clack awkwardly. His hand still pumping their pricks as to finish Peter off with renewed vigour as he rides out his own orgasm. 

Accompanied by the stuttering push if his hips Peter finds his own release in the hand of his holy preacher. Hot and sticky as they breathe out of sync and heavy, no longer chained by burden. 

“Amen” Elias whispers against Peter’s lips, smiling gently as he wipes the tears from his flushed face. 

Peter sighs, taking in the sweet scent of their union and knowing he has been delivered once again from the fog of damnation into the arms of his saviour.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated. I hope you enjoyed it as much as i enjoyed writing! 💜💜💜


End file.
